by Dom Testa
Lita laughed softly. “Well, at least you’re honest. Anything specific, or just the whole weight of it all?”
Channy scratched Iris under the chin. “It’s just getting so hard, you know? All of the stuff we’ve been through already, now the Kuiper Belt is trying to smash us into a million bits, and people who are supposed to be our friends are turning hostile. I thought we were all on the same team.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper and gestured toward the girl lying between them. “There’s even talk about Alexa dying. Have you heard about that?”
Lita said, “Yes. I’ve had at least a dozen calls, and a few people have even stopped by in person. Word is spreading pretty fast.”
“But it’s garbage. Don’t they know it’s just Merit causing more trouble?”
“Of course it is,” Lita said. “Don’t let it rattle you. It’s exactly the effect he’s looking for.”
Channy stared at her. “I know, I know. You sound like Triana now.”
“And Triana is right. Trust in the truth, Channy, it will get us through this.”
Iris stood up, turned to face the opposite direction, then plopped back down and resumed her bath, oblivious to the conversation and the drama around her. Both girls watched this, taking in the bizarre visual combination of the fussy feline against the troubled teenage girl.
Channy’s face broke into her usual smile. “I don’t know what I would do without this silly cat right now.”
Lita reached across and tickled Iris behind one ear. “I’m glad you keep bringing her in here. For that matter, I’m glad you’re here.” She stepped back and looked at Channy. “There are a couple of helpers in the next room who will look in every few minutes. I’ve got to leave.”
“What’s up?”
“Triana wants me to meet her up in the Domes,” Lita said.
“Bon is going to connect with the Cassini again, and she thinks it would be a good idea if I was there.”
Channy’s mouth fell open. “I never thought he would do that.”
“I didn’t either. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Should I come, too?”
Lita shook her head. “I think it would be better if there wasn’t a crowd, you know? If you want to help, stay here for a little while and keep Alexa company for me. Don’t be afraid to talk to her, okay? I’m telling you, on some level I think it has a positive impact.”
“Umm…” Channy said. “What do you think is going to happen? With Bon, I mean.”
Lita exhaled deeply. “You saw what happened last time.”
26
The evening routine of dimming the lights throughout the ship brought on the imitation of an Earth dusk, and many crew members had come to recognize that the best place to experience it was in the Domes. As the artificial sunlight faded, those who were not on duty or socializing in the Dining Hall or Recreation Room would often sneak away to watch the brilliant starlight emerge from behind the day’s glare. It was a popular spot for quiet introspection, a chance to unwind at the end of a work shift.
This evening, however, Dome 2 was closed to the crew. Yellow warning signs blocked the entry with a notice proclaiming that special testing was taking place, and that all traffic should be diverted into Dome 1. One of the Farm workers sat nearby in a folding chair, acting as a make-shift security guard to keep everyone out.
Inside, Triana stood near the center of Dome 2 with hands on hips, a small bag slung over her shoulder. On her face she kept a confident look that she hoped would mask the twisting ball of stress that sat heavily in her stomach. Cleared of other people like this, the dome had a crypt-like silence cast over it, broken only occasionally by the sound of Triana shifting on her feet. To her ears, her breathing was loud and disruptive.
Bon sat peacefully in the dirt a few feet away, his face expressionless, his eyes closed. They were alone.
The setting brought about a twinge of déjà vu in Triana as she gazed up at the spectacle of the Milky Way. It had been only a few months since they had first played out this scene. That fateful connection with the Cassini had taken place in the other dome, with only minutes separating Galahad from total destruction. This time…
This time, she wondered, did they even have minutes? It was one thing to have a fatal deadline looming over you, and quite another to live in uncertainty, never knowing if or when the blow might come. It was, oddly, a completely different form of pressure, Triana realized. Both might have the same outcome, yet they worked on the psyche in distinctive ways.
Simply thinking about it brought a sudden sense of urgency into her mind, and yet there was no way she could thrust any more pressure upon Bon. She was determined to allow him to set the pace. She chose, however, to remain standing, if for no other reason than to subtly convey a message of determination.
Bon brought a fist to his mouth and quietly coughed. He glanced up at Triana and spent a moment peering into her eyes. “Is it going to be just you and me?” he said.
“No,” Triana said. “Well, maybe to start. But I asked Lita to be here.”
He nodded, a look of understanding, mixed with a touch of resignation, crossing his face. They both knew that Lita’s medical skills were unlikely to come into play; it was a formality more than anything else. After all, what could she really do?
Another moment of silence passed, then Bon held out a hand. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Triana nodded and stepped toward him. From within her shoulder bag she extracted a small, lightweight metal ball. It had four short spikes that protruded from the top, bottom, and two sides, as well as small slits that appeared to be vents. It seemed insignificant, yet had saved their lives once already.
Bon eyed the translator. Before setting it in his palm, Triana reached out and took his open hand. “Thank you,” she said.
“You realize that this might get us nowhere, right?” he said.
“Maybe. Or it might help a great deal.”
He smiled, a gesture that Triana was unprepared for. She felt a hitch in her breathing and a sensation that often preceded tears; she fought against the feeling. Instead, she returned his smile, let go of his hand, and slowly placed the translator in his palm. Almost immediately his smile dissipated, and he gripped the metallic ball at his side.
It happened quickly. A shudder seemed to pass through his body, his eyes clenched tightly, and his head snapped back. Through his gritted teeth Triana could hear a stifled moan escape, the sound of a wounded animal. She immediately dropped to her knees by his side.
A spasm of pain shook him. His head whipped to one side, then the other, and another cry of torture poured out. A dull red glow escaped from the vents of the translator and seeped between Bon’s fingers.
Even though she had witnessed it before, Triana still recoiled in shock when Bon’s eyes flew open. They glowed with a brilliant orange color, indicating that the turbulent connection with the Cassini was in full force. Then, moments later, the voices returned.
It was a garbled collection of sounds that spilled from Bon’s trembling lips, with an almost hollow echo to them, a mishmash of voices, all communicating at once. The overall effect was frightening: the glow from the translator, strengthening for a brief moment, then ebbing, then picking up in intensity once again; the eerie orange tint from Bon’s shifting eyes, eyes that seemed to be looking inward rather than outward; and the voices, stacking upon each other, with a sound that felt as if it might pierce Triana’s skull. The Cassini had not only tapped into Bon’s mind, but had apparently re-established their link with the other Galahad crew members who shared their neural wavelength.
Triana wondered what Bon was hearing, what he was seeing. She could only imagine what he must be feeling. It was exactly as it had been four months ago.
And then, without warning, it wasn’t. Bon let out a cry in his own voice, overriding the multitude of sounds, and his eyes seemed to focus again. They kept their orange shine, but for once it seemed as if Bon was fighting for control
. Triana resisted the urge to touch him, to help. Something was happening, and she needed to let it play out without interference, no matter how painful it might be for Bon.
She felt a presence behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Lita stood a few feet away, staring at Bon, her own face a collection of emotions that seemed to include awe, pity, and fear. She held a small medical bag, but let it drop to the dirt.
Triana turned back to Bon just as the unexpected happened. Bon let out what sounded almost like a quick snort of laughter. If so, it was full of pain, too, but when it happened again Triana was sure that it was a laugh. Bon pulled his gritted teeth apart and emitted a long, agonizing groan, followed by a third grunt of laughter.
“Bon,” Triana said. “Can you hear me?”
It was difficult, given the shudders of pain that wracked his body, to know for certain, but it seemed as if he nodded once in reply. It was confirmed a moment later when he turned his orange eyes to look directly into her face. He nodded again.
“The Kuiper Belt,” Triana said. “Talk to them about the Kuiper Belt. Help us.”
Bon blurted out another short, pain-filled laugh, his eyes snapped shut again, and his head rolled back. The voices picked up their intensity. It was as if a battle of wills was taking place, a tug-of-war within Bon’s head, each side—or many sides—fighting for control. The translator pulsed.
“The Kuiper Belt,” Triana said again. “Bon, hold on. Fight for your identity. Tell them to help us.”
She saw him shake his head a couple of times, but not in disagreement. Instead it seemed as if he was wrestling back control. His eyes flickered a few times, then settled back on Triana once more. His breathing became regular, and the voices calmed.
This was also new. Triana held her breath, watching, waiting. Then, a new bolt of fear raced through her when Bon’s lips parted with a subdued, ominous laugh. It echoed, similar to the hollow sound that accompanied the voices, but it was distinctly Bon.
Laughter. She felt a chill, and noticed that goose bumps covered her arms. One portion of her brain screamed to get up and run, yet she held firm, anchored to the spot beside Bon. After a moment, he fell silent again. His tremors subsided, but the eyes maintained their orange glow. What felt like an eternity passed, the two of them sitting in the soil of Dome 2, separated physically by less than three feet, although to Triana it seemed like a chasm a mile wide. She completely forgot about Lita standing behind her.
The translator’s red light dimmed, then winked out. Bon’s grip loosened, and the metallic ball fell to the ground. In less than ten seconds his eyes had returned to their normal icy blue.
It took a moment for Triana to realize that her breathing was almost as labored as his. Her hands were clenched into fists, the muscles in her forearms tight, her entire body clamped and taught as a spring. She willed herself to relax.
Time passed. How much, Triana couldn’t say for sure. She kept her attention riveted to Bon’s face, trying desperately to read him, to understand what had happened. He gave no indication, and remained silent. Finally, he lay back on the soil with his hands beneath his head, his eyes closed. His hair was matted with sweat, and, for the first time, Triana noticed a light-colored, wispy growth of small hairs on his upper lip. It seemed odd to her that she should notice something like that at such a critical time, but she found her eyes dipping again and again. Between the faint beginnings of facial hair and the experience that had just concluded, Bon seemed a stranger to her. Kneeling in the dirt beside him, she brought a hand out to touch his leg, but then slowly retracted it.
When the unexpected touch of a hand on her shoulder came, she jumped and let out a small cry.
“Sorry,” Lita whispered, kneeling beside Triana. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Triana gave a soundless laugh then swallowed hard. “No, it’s okay. I guess I was just so…wrapped up in everything.”
Lita indicated Bon. “Well? What do you think?”
Triana glanced down at him. “I don’t know. Something’s…different, that’s for sure.” With Lita beside her, she felt confidence return. She reached out and laid a hand on Bon’s leg.
A moment later he stirred and opened his eyes. At first he simply stared up at the starlight washing through the dome, his chest slowly rising and falling. Then he turned his head and looked at Triana.
“We’re okay,” he said.
Triana stared into his eyes, unsure of how to respond. It was such an unusual comment for Bon to make, and not what she would have expected from him. We’re okay. What exactly did that mean?
Her mind began to decode the simple statement. By we did he mean the crew of Galahad? Was he referring to the two of them? Or…
The thought flashed through her like a lightning bolt. We. Was that Bon speaking? Or…the Cassini?
His connection with the alien intelligence had shifted. Unlike their initial contact around Saturn, Bon seemed to have negotiated with the Cassini this time. He had managed to direct his attention at Triana, he had responded to her, he had…
He had laughed. She was sure of it.
And now he appeared more calm than anyone had a right to be following such an ordeal. He reclined in the soft soil of Dome 2, his head resting on his hands, his pale blue eyes stoically locked onto Triana’s. Only the tinge of sweat in his hair gave testimony to the suffering his body had endured only brief minutes ago.
Triana bit her lip, but kept her gaze on him. Finally, she said, “What can you tell me?”
Bon smiled, which only made her discomfort intensify. His voice was soft, but steady. “There’s a trick to talking with them, I know that now.”
“You had more control, is that right?”
He chuckled. “There’s no such thing as control over them. No, it’s a matter of not giving yourself away completely.”
Triana wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know what that means.” Bon turned onto his side and supported his head with one hand. He could not appear more relaxed, Triana noted.
“The first time I interfaced with the Cassini,” Bon said, “it was beyond overwhelming. Think of a child opening the door on the world’s most wonderful candy store. Except this candy store is brilliantly lit, and it’s the size of the universe; it goes on forever and ever, with every aisle carrying upward to the sky, all of it stocked with every delight a child could imagine, and then an infinite supply of delights beyond comprehension.
“It’s irresistible. You want to take it all in, you almost have to take it in. That’s what it’s like when I first connect with them. That’s probably why it hurts so much.” Bon pushed a stray hair out of his face. “When you give yourself over to that amount of sensation, it’s impossible to move, to think. The Cassini don’t really take over as much as they…I don’t know, outshine, I guess. Like a candle sitting next to a supernova.”
Triana said, “I get that. But what did you do differently this time?”
Bon shrugged. “The only way I can describe it is that I shut my eyes. My inner eyes, I guess. I didn’t allow myself to be completely swallowed by the intensity of their essence. It wasn’t a matter of fighting back; it was more like…sipping instead of gulping.” He paused, then smiled again. “Yeah, I guess that’s the best way to put it.”
“I’m sure that’s hard to do,” Triana said. “It’s probably tempting to dive in, right?”
“Yeah. Except…” His smile faded, and he looked down at the dirt below him.
“Except that way leads to destruction. We’re not equipped to handle that.”
Lita inched closer and sat on her heels beside them, but kept quiet. Triana gave Bon a moment of reflection before asking him, “So…did you learn anything about the Kuiper Belt? Can they help us?”
Bon remained focused on the ground. He ran a finger through the soil, back and forth, carving a small trench, then filled it in and began over again. After a moment he looked back up at Triana.
“I think we’ll be able to get through,” he said
.
Triana wanted to smile, wanted to celebrate the news, yet something in Bon’s tone held her back. He wasn’t telling her everything.
“But…” she said.
“But,” Bon said, “I get the feeling that there might be something waiting for us on the other side.”
27
I like to read. Not in the way you do, probably. I’m guessing you like to curl up with a good book, get really involved with the story and the characters, and let it take you on a voyage of imagination. I appreciate that.
When I read, I am digitally soaking up an entire shelf full of volumes in less than a second. Not too exciting, really. Plus, I can’t curl, which takes some of the romance out it.
But I love the knowledge found between the covers of books. Even a work of fiction, which is made up, still has seeds of truth regarding the ways of life. Like, for instance, the fact that just when things seem to be working out okay, you realize that you either left the iron plugged in, or there’s something perched outside the Kuiper Belt waiting to eat you.
The corridors on the lowest level of the ship were, as usual, mostly deserted and quiet. A few crew members were likely at the other end of the level, either working out in the gym or taking a few turns in the Airboard room. But this end, which housed the mysterious Storage Sections and the Spider bay, sat in muted light, almost a perpetual twilight. It was the only section of Galahad that went unused.
At least for now. Once the ship pulled into orbit around one of the two Earth-like planets in the Eos system, it would come alive with activity.
The Spider bay held the small transport vehicles that the crew would use to shuttle down to the planet’s surface. Known affectionately as Spiders because of their oval shape and multiple robot arms, each craft was capable of holding thirty passengers. Plans had called for ten functional Spiders to make the journey in the large hangar bay, but as it turned out only eight of the vehicles were completed in time for the launch. The other two were loaded aboard to supply possible replacement parts.